I often wonder what it must be liketo not feel constantly isolatedby those who claim to claim you,so-called alliances crumblingwhen they realize your nature cannot be changed.there are no rainbows in pastel skies,and they love us until we are no longer PGno longer PC.love is love until you love like me

yet still, if he is safe and well i still cannot help but wonder, if you could set this swallow loose from your ribcage, and let us reside once more in our heart,once more, the way He intended.

i’ve seen the photographs, sent in dog-eared envelopes, careless. when did you become so tightly wound, nothing like the cloth angel I remember(your dresses flowing in between your legs, as you ran up the hills before me).

if only you’d let me build you again, from scratch, my whittling knife tracinggently, etching the skin that was once mine. if only you’d pry the paintbrush from his hands, please, just place it back into my rightful palms.

for i could paint colour back on your cheeks, bring what he lost in you back to life for man always cracks and breaks the rosy flesh, when he decides you are a wife.

for now i shall keep you in a glass cabinet in my head, instead of – for the last twenty years – a casket by my bed. safe, warm, admired, just for me to see nothing like the princess locked in this tower, that he so longs you to be.

but, please, please, write back.

tell me what it would takefor me to say, for me to do, for you to open those glass eyes again and seethat perhaps this rosenkavalier that you’ve always longed for, might just be a she?

spent so many nights awakeexploring the city at night it’s not the same as during the day Empire State Building is brighter and women spread their legs open wider perhaps, that’s the whole point of itthe wider you spread, the wilder it getscity love is acrobatic do the slips but don’t be dramatic